Such a Strange Day in Hogwarts
by Parody Fairy
Summary: It’s a parody, and, I know, It’s plainly pathetic. But hey! I only wanted to write that Malfoy’s-hair thing, the rest is my friends’ fault. God, they’re terrible. translation of "Un día RARO en Hogwarts"


It's a parody, and, I know, It's plainly pathetic. But (hey!) I only wanted to write that Malfoy's-hair thing, the rest is my friends' fault. God, they're terrible. Don't feel compelled to leave a review just 'cause they threatened to kill me if I don't get at least ten reviews. Really. It's always a good excuse to play hide-and-seek.

So, I translated this from Spanish. English is not my first language, so please forgive my hopefully few errors. Thanks.

* * *

The Great Hall doors opened suddenly, and hundreds of blond-haired boys and girls in their teens poured through them, making themselves at home in the enormous room. They were gorgeous, and most of them resembled either veelas or elfs, or some mix between both races.

Everybody stopped eating to look at the stunning newcomers, who started posing and taking photos of themselves, looking around the place as if they owned it and blinding them with their flashes. One of the photographers, tall and muscled, realised that the _whole _Hall wasn't paying attention to them. He approached the only two people who appeared to be immune to the striking blondes.

'Why aren't you drooling and staring at them in amazement?' he inquired snootily.

'I'm too proud' answered Malfoy, combing his elegant blond hair.

'I'm too famous' answered Potter, messing up his hair distractedly. 'You know, I'm the-Boy-Who-Lived-and-starred-five-films…(now available in DVD)'

'Oh, and I hate blonds...I mean...their hair cannot be compared to mine!' exclaimed the Slytherin, stroking his hair lovingly.

'Right…it doesn't look like a cow licked their heads...' the Gryffindor added, in a mock-serious tone, touching the blond's head with a finger and pretending to be glued to it.

'Ha-ha. Hilarious, Potter. Why don't you go save someone and leave me alone?' He answered, pushing him to the floor. But Harry grabbed the blond's tunic, trying to steady himself, and they both fell, lying on the floor, way too near to each other and limbs tangled.

'Get off, Malfoy!'

'Let me go, Potter, I can't move' grunted the Slytherin, too near to the raven-haired for his sanity.

'Don't move!' shouted one of the photographers, taking shoots at them. 'You're great! There's so much chemistry between you two! Owlf, move his arm a little bit to the left…mess his hair up a bit, just the fringe…oh, yes, this is perfect! We'll have the hottest photos of the century!

Draco and Harry tried to untangle from each other even harder. There was no way in seven hell's they'd allow that to happen!

In that exact moment, coming from no one knows where, appeared the famous, the adored, the unique… Gilderoy Lockart!

'Stop it, boys! It'll help you straighten out...' he said, his tunic flowing around him (thanks to the ventilator his manager followed him with) and his blinding smile sparkling (thanks to the lantern his manager followed him with, too. Everything for image's shake.) With a _graceful_ movement of his _skilled_ wand, he pronounced '_Inreto semper mutatio!'_

A bright light surrounded both boys.

The whole room quietened, and everybody could hear a terrifying howl which came from the strange light…

'My hair! It's getting messed up!

Well, not **that** terrifying.

When the light disappeared, both boys raised and stared at each other, motionless for a long minute until…

'Ahhhhhhhhhhh! What the hell have you done, Potter!' Shouted Draco Malfoy to the young saviour of the Wizarding World.

'Malfoy! You've stolen my scar!' the other teen screamed, running his hand through his hair, in a motion he considered "sexy". That was what Hermione had said, anyway. Although, if he thought about it, where had 'Mione seen the word "sexy"? In a dictionary?

'Stop it, half-blood! You're messing up my hair!' shouted the (now) dark-haired Draco Malfoy. Exactly, the worst had happened. They'd swapped bits of their bodies!

Nah, I was kidding.

You bought it, didn't you?

Well, I'll tell you what truly happened.

You really want to know?

OK, I warned you. (A/n: now that I think of it I didn't. shrugs Doesn't really matter.)

They had switched bodies!

With surprisingly fast movements Malfoy (now in Potter's body) apparated there a hair gel tube and pounced on his own body, combing his hair and covering it in hair gel. He wouldn't let his sexy good-looking body walk around dishevelled, no way.

'I have to concede this to you, Potter.' He said, once satisfied with the aspect of his golden hair, raising from the floor. 'You look quite hot right now.'

'Argg! Malfoy, give my body back or else…'

Malfoy just raised a brow disdainfully at him.

'I'll show everybody the Dark Mark you've got on your arm!'

'What? You wouldn't dare!'

'Oh, of course I'll do' answered the _blond _triumphantly, raising his sleeve. He waited for the horrified murmur that was sure to follow the revelation, but as the only thing he heard were hysterical laughs he lowered his eyes and took a good look at _his_ arm.

'Fuck! What the hell do you think is this, Malfoy? Where's the Dark Mark?'

'I do not have it, asshole.' Answered a frustrated Draco. Because of Potter now everybody knew his darkest secret: he'd get a pink-unicorns tattoo on his arm, coupled with little hearts and the words "Mister Draco Dumbledore".

Wondering if Harry would have a tattoo which he could use to get revenge on the Golden Boy, he raised his left sleeve. Honestly, where did that wizard bought his clothes! Everybody knew muggle clothes were for muggles, and tunics were for wizards, not the other way round.

The arm was clean, damned it!

With hope-filled eyes, he raised the other sleeve.

He looked at the tattoo which laid there.

He blinked.

He looked again.

He blinked once more.

And then he fell to the floor in fits of laughter.

In his left arm there was a tattoo with a Herat in which the words "Harry & Tom" could be read.

'Hahahahahahahahaha'

'What are you laughing at? At least he's not four hundred years old, moron!'

'Oh, please, Voldemort?' asked Malfoy, barely containing his amusement.

Amusement which was short lived as the sharp "crack", telltale of apparition, revealed the current Dark Lord (see Voldemort), who hugged him tightly.

'Harry, love, where have you been? I was waiting for you!'

'Don't touch him!' shouted the blond. 'It's Malfoy in my body, not me!'

Voldemort stared at Harry, and then turned to Draco. And he stared at Draco, and then turned to Harry. And then he stared at Draco, and then turned to the sandwich table. And he stared at the sandwich table and then turned to Harry.

'How do I know you're really you?' he inquired, scratching his scarce nose.

'Ask me something only **I**'d know.'

'Hum...all right. What happened really in the summer before fifth year, when you were "attacked by dementors"?'

'Easy! We went for the weekend to your private island in the Caribbean.'

'And what did we do there?'

'Beside from the obvious?'

'Beside from the obvious.'

'Hm…made plans to drive Malfoy mad. More than he already is, of course.'

'Harry, it's you!' Voldemort eventually shouted, hugging the blonde's body.

'It was you who planned to send me to kill Dummby?' exclaimed an irate Malfoy.

'Malfoy, you will never again speak to my dear Harry in that tone. Understood?' howled the Dark Lord. 'And now, bring us an ice-cream.'

'Yes, Master. Of course, Master.' Answered the trembling Draco.

'Ah, that's the way I like it. Harry, dear, want to take a bath with me?'

'In the Jacuzzi?'

'Sure!'

* * *

Now, before anyone sends me an "avada" by email, I warned you, remember?


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